


Lesson Number Two

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [62]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Implied James Bond/Q, M/M, MI6 agent Eggsy, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8758420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: Eggsy's only job here was to gather intel on a mysterious group of people who were cropping up out of nowhere. He wasn't supposed to (accidentally, maybe, possibly) seduce (be seduced by) one of said people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer*  
> Anyone you recognize belongs either to Matthew Vaughn or people who play in Mr Fleming's sandbox.

James, if he could see the two of them now, would be laughing so hard his would tip out of his chair.

Eggsy had been taken onto the payroll of the British Secret Service in their double-oh division not seven months before this assignment had come up and he had been deemed perfect for the job. At the time he had thought his coworkers’ and superiors’ codenamed odd, made up of sequences of letters and numbers, but at least that system made some sort of sense in hierarchy. The one Kingsman was using? Did not. It seemed every man of rank had assumed the title of some long-deceased member of legend, the only distinguishing factor between any of them being that the codenames of Merlin and Arthur were not based on proposals, but rather by internal appointment upon death. He tried not to think about the possibility of either of them being assassinated.

His assignment, his first official one on record (discounting the ride-alongs he had done with James and many of the other agents), was by no means easy. Men like Harry, who sat across the wet-bar from him, had been popping up more and more on their radar. Unassuming members of the social elite who had a knack for showing up on closed circuit television networks where they had no business being. Eggsy had been tasked first with attracting their notice, and according to Quentin’s final words to him before he was taken into police custody, he “had done so flawlessly.” James, even, had been impressed. His second step, which he had been executing for the last five months, was gathering information. His understanding was that it would be indefinite employment, provided he wasn’t discovered and subsequently shot.

So here he sat, listening to Harry explain to him how to properly make a martini, the night before the final - and most important - test of his not-so-fabricated cover’s life.

“Always make sure you use gin, not vodka. It isn’t as dry, and you’d be less likely to do something uncouth in front of your target.” Eggsy nodded, picturing James’ face whenever he drank one of his favourites, a slight grimace no matter how many times previous he had imbibed one.

“So none of that ‘dirty, and shaken, not stirred,’ then?” Harry levelled him with an unimpressed stare.

“No, Eggsy.” Harry sighed and put the bottle of gin off to the side. “Always stir it for at least ten seconds, but no longer than fifteen. Not only is it the proper way to do so, but if someone is trying to poison you it is better not to let them in on the fact that you suspect them of doing so.” Eggsy nodded. “Never, and I mean this in the loosest sense of the word, as it may change depending on circumstance, use vermouth.” Eggsy raised an eyebrow.

“Ain’t that just gin in a fancy glass, then?” Harry looked about one deliberately thick question away from dashing his head on the bar counter in frustration.

“It’s the principle of the matter, dear boy. Now,” Harry moved the ingredients closer to him. “Your turn.”

Eggsy executed the drink perfectly on his first try, though he made sure not to let on that he had mixed the drink before, adding a slight hesitation here or there to make it seem as if he were focused and thinking. And he  _ had  _ made the drink before. Many times. Both he and Quentin had become quite good at making a variety of martinis, with the amount of time they spent in the company of their alcoholic friend. Harry looked surprised, even, when he grated the lemon zest into a long curl and draped it artfully before passing it to the older man for inspection.

“If there is one thing you can do, Eggsy, in the event that you fail tomorrow’s test, it is that you can become a bartender.” He smirked as Harry took another sip of his drink. “This is, by far, one of the best martinis I’ve ever had, and I’ve been mixing them longer than you’ve been alive.”

In his focus on the task at hand - listening to Harry supposedly teach him how to make a fancy drink - Eggsy had completely forgotten that he was supposed to shoot his dog tomorrow. Technically he wasn’t supposed to know that what the final test was, nor was he supposed to be in any sort of contact with people outside the manor grounds. Then again, his friends in the Service had never much cared for rules, and neither did he.

Eggsy mixed himself a drink - he had almost used the mixer and shaken it, just to see the look on Harry’s face - raised it in a toast, and Harry lifted his glass as well.

“To Kingsman,” he said.

“To Kingsman.” Harry tapped the rim of his glass against his own, and Eggsy sent up a silent plea to whomever or whatever may be watching over him that he didn’t royally send this whole mission tits-up by flubbing his test tomorrow.

Now, on top of becoming adept at a large range of technical skills, in his time in the Service Eggsy had gotten rather good at hiding how he may have been feeling in any given moment. This he learned not from formal instruction, but from watching Quentin bluff consistently and believably around James. Seeing his friend suppress a blush whenever the older agent leaned around him pointedly to grab something he could have just asked for was far less hilarious when it was he on the receiving end of casual touches and telegraphed intent. Harry, he noticed, had completely changed his demeanor in the time it had taken to raise the glass to his lip; he was less serious, and far too playful for the current circumstances. If Eggsy was reading him correctly the man would not be lacking for a willing partner tonight, no matter that it was technically against the rules.

Oh yes, James was definitely laughing at him. Quentin probably was too, the hypocrite.


	2. Chapter 2

“We’ll sort this out when I get back.” 

Maybe Eggsy had been off his game this morning - his back still hurt from the night before, and his brain was still trying to come back online. Whatever the reason, he hoped desperately that he had gathered enough intel on Kingsman simply from being on the grounds, considering he had failed the dog test, forgot to weigh the blank, and had subtly threatened Chester King. Harry didn’t look impressed, and if their heated discussion was anything to go by, he was also hurt. Sweeping past him, Harry left him standing in the hall as he had left to go and catch the cab that would take him to his flight to Kentucky.

That left Eggsy, alone, in Harry’s house. It didn’t feel right to try and search the place for anything he could use against the agency, not when Harry was already so angry. The last thing he would need would be for the other man to find out after he came back, leaving Eggsy to deal with the very real possibility of being branded a mole and executed to keep his silence.

“God, I was so fucking  _ stupid _ . Way to go, Gaz, congrats. You botched it, and now Harry can’t talk to you no more. You’re prob’ly gonna have to get your brain -” Stopping his pacing down the hallway, Eggsy caught his terrified reflection in the mirror through the open bathroom door. “Wiped.  _ Shit _ .” Taking the stairs two at a time, Eggsy landed so hard in Harry’s office chair that it almost fell over. Quentin would huff at his clumsiness, but right now he didn’t really care. Pulling out his phone and hoping the room wasn’t bugged for visual, Eggsy sent a quick text to Quentin and told him what happened. How he had failed, and was there anything else they could do? Was it even possible to continue the mission now? Setting his phone aside, Eggsy drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, eyeing the laptop.  _ Maybe _ . Opening it, Eggsy was confronted with Harry’s impossible system - the one Merlin said that even  _ he  _ couldn’t crack.

It took him some time, and a rather careful set of passwords - gained by what he knew about the man both formally and informally, and applying it - Eggsy had managed to get past the security barriers. He didn’t know if there was anyone else in the system who had been alerted at his entry, but from what he could see he was safe. There was an app open and flashing from the bottom toolbar, and clicking it, Eggsy was taken straight to Harry’s live feed, a limited view of the inside of an old church, filled with people listening intently to the man at the front spewing hate speech. Harry turned to the woman next to him as she blocked him from getting out of his seat.

“I am a Catholic whore, currently enjoying congress,  _ out of wedlock _ , with my black, Jewish boyfriend, who works at a military abortion clinic.” If Eggsy had been drinking anything, he might have choked. Even James was never that creative, and he had a seemingly endless store of witty one-liners at his disposal. “So hail Satan, and have a  _ lovely _ afternoon, madam.” Something must have happened on the other end, because Harry was almost at the door before everyone started shouting, and then the insanity began.

There were guns everywhere - bloody Americans - and everyone was turning on one another without a second thought. Eggsy tried to keep count of how many people when down, tried not to think about how many people Harry  _ killed _ , but it was all moving too quickly for him to follow. One minute Harry was grappling with someone, and the next he was firing off rounds into some poor bloke’s chest. Somebody got blown up, and Harry got hit quite a few times, but in his opinion with the way things were going it was likely he would walk away. He may not look like much after this, but he  _ would _ live.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. Every last person in the church dead, save for Harry, who shrugged his shoulders and walked out into the bright Kentucky sunlight, where there were people waiting on the tarmac. Eggsy could feel his jaw drop - no one, not MI6, not the CIA, not even Kingsman, really, had suspected Richmond Valentine to have a hand in this.

“I guess this is the part where I find some wild, convoluted way to trap you, and then tell you my whole plan, and then you find an equally convoluted way to escape, right?” The heart rate monitor on the side of Eggsy’s screen, which had just begun to return to normal, spiked again.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”  _ No, Harry, now is not the time for that _ , Eggsy thought, not daring to say a word. Through Harry’s feed, Eggsy could see Valentine smirk.

“Well, this ain’t that kind of movie.” Valentine levelled his gun and fired, and the feed tipped upwards to show nothing but the blinding blue of the summer sky in Kentucky, Harry’s vitals slowly slipping away. Eggsy could hear screaming, and it took him a moment to realize that it was  _ him _ . That  _ he  _ was the one screaming. Shutting the screen, Eggsy sat back in the chair in silence. On the table, his phone rang. He didn’t even check the caller identification before answering.

_ “You have to tell Kingsman that Valentine is behind this. You have to do something in the face of Harry’s death. I know that you care about him.”  _ In the flurry of emotion over the last two days, Eggys had forgot he was being monitored at MI6 headquarters, and that he would never be able to hide from one of his closest friends. He didn’t even have the time to be ashamed of some of his actions before Quentin spoke again.  _ “Toast him at the table, like you mentioned is what happens whenever an agent dies, and then go to the Kingsman storefront and speak to Arthur. I have a sinking feeling that he knows more about this than he should.”  _ The line went dead before Eggsy could say a word, and he took a deep, steadying breath before going downstairs and pouring himself a drink.

He still had  _ plenty _ of work to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we go; I've got nearly the rest of this mess written, save for maybe one or two chapters, but this one is more of a filler than anything since I didn't want to skip too much time.

Eggsy sat at the dining room table looking down at the empty snifter of brandy.  _ Harry was dead, and I failed him. I never even apologized _ . It wasn’t even about working for Kingsman, or MI6, or anyone else any longer. It was about Harry. What he was about to do was for the many lying dead in a parking lot while the world marched steadily into the apocalypse. Taking a deep breath, Eggsy stood up and picked up the old phone that sat on the side table. It didn’t work, really, but every agent’s house had one. Harry had told him during their twenty-four hours together that if he picked up the phone and spoke the code into the other end - agent specific, of course - then a cab would be sent to the residence. He didn’t know if it would work, and he didn’t want to risk alerting anyone to the fact that he was still active, that he had failed his test and still knew about Kingsman. Placing the phone back in its cradle, Eggsy grabbed his jacket from the front door and bolted, heading down the street in the direction he knew would take him to Savile Row. his phone buzzed in his pocket, but Eggsy hardly stalled as he pulled it out and answered.

_ “If you keep on your current path, a car will be waiting for you at the gate of Stanhope Mews.”  _ Quentin hung up before he could thank him, but Eggsy put his phone back in his pocket and burst into a sprint. The gates weren’t far, and running like he was it didn’t take him long to reach them. Slipping out of the neighborhood, Eggsy stopped to catch his breath as a sleek black Aston crept along the kerb to stop next to him. The driver rolled down the window and leaned over.

“You going my way?” Eggsy grinned widely at the familiar salt and pepper hair that belonged to James, and he popped open the passenger door to slide inside. James looker at him briefly, studying him. “It’s been a while, mate. Haven’t heard hide nor hare of you.” He peeled the car onto the main road and headed for the tailor shop. Quentin must have sent him the directions. “Thought you had died on us.” Eggsy laughed, It felt odd, doing it, considering what just happened.

“Like you’re one to talk, bruv. How many times have you done it now? Three? Four?” James shook his head.

“All the same, Q wouldn’t breathe a word to me about it.” Eggsy sobered at the mention of his friend, even though he had been on the phone with him not minutes ago. He looked out the window, and wondered how Valentine’s plan would change the dynamic the three of them had. They were dangerous in different ways, but he and James were far handier at turning a blunt object into a deadly weapon than the young quartermaster. Eggsy just hoped that no matter what went down, his friends had at least pulled their heads out of their arses and faced the truth before hell came topside.

“You know Quentin, but he’s far better at keeping secrets than you think, James.” They were silent for the rest of the drive, both men lost in thought.

James wheeled the Aston into the parking lane a few doors down from the Kingsman tailor front, careful to avoid the cameras no doubt lurking on the building. They both knew that if Kingsman  _ really  _ wanted to know who was driving the car Eggsy had gotten out of, then the game was up and they were both as good as dead, but it didn’t hurt to try. With one last nod from James, Eggsy got out and walked the rest of the way, opening the front door with a confidence he didn’t truly feel. Dagonet nodded at him curiously from behind the desk, closing up for the night to civilians, but didn’t say a word as Eggsy went up the stairs and into the dining room above the shop floor. He hesitated in front of the large door, but with a firm exhale pushed it open.

“Arthur, Harry’s dead.” Chester King shook his head.

“ _ Galahad  _ is dead.” The words were dry, as if Harry wasn’t anything more than his knighthood. As if Harry wasn’t even a person. “And as you can see, we’ve just toasted him.” Eggsy wanted to say that  _ ‘No, I can’t see, and you sitting there with a decanter in front of you don’t mean jack shit, you arrogant toff.’  _ King waved a hand at the table. “But he was quite fond of you, wasn’t he? So I suppose, in this case, we could make an exception. Sit down, boy.” The hair on the back of Eggsy’s neck stood up at at the word  _ boy _ , but he crossed the room and sat down next to the older man as he poured two drinks.

Chester turned as he spoke, some nonsense about valiant knights and great effort, high hopes, and Eggsy caught a glimpse of the scar on his neck. The same one Valentine’s assistant had. There  _ had _ to be a connection, and Eggsy couldn’t afford to be wrong. His world went red, and as he distracted King with a question about the - frankly weird - portraits that hung on the wall, he went with his gut and switched their glasses before feigning interest. The rest of the conversation dimmed, he knew he was asking questions, being cheeky in a way Harry would certainly sigh at, and then Chester was outing himself.

“Tell me, Eggsy, can you guess what this is?” he held up a fountain pen, the same that Harry had showed him in Fitting Room Three. He shook his head.

“Don’t have to - you click it, I die. Thought that brandy tasted a bit shit.” Eggsy leaned forward, his hands on the table. King didn’t flinch. “But I’d rather be with Harry,  _ thanks _ .” Eggsy watched with barely concealed amusement as King choked on his own poison, already formulating a plan to see if Dagonet could get him into the elevator to the manor. He needed to see Merlin.

\----

What happened next was more or less a blur, even for him. One minute Roxy was pointing a gun at him, and Eggsy had the faintest dash of worry that he had been found out as a double agent before Merlin cleared him, and then they were on a jet, with Merlin telling him that he had to pretend to be the man he had just killed. Roxy was sent up into the edge of space, and despite the very real possibility that she now had real grounds to hide his dead body, he was worried for her.

Eggsy looked at himself in the loo mirror, hair styled perfectly and Kingsman glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, wearing the bespoke suit Harry had had made for him. He swallowed down the memory of their trip to the shop and focused on the task at hand - taking down Valentine before he could do too much damage.

“Looking good, Eggsy.”

“Feeling good, Merlin.” He didn’t.

\----

Eggsy tried not to think about the dead bodies around him as he dodged Gazelle’s razor sharp prosthetics, and hoped that his suit was able to keep out swords like the armour Harry said it was supposed to be.  _ James probably never had to fight a bird like this _ , was a fleeting thought before he remembered that, yes, James had probably fought several people with borderline insane body modifications in his lifetime. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep fighting her. Any possible weapons within reach either broken or useless, Eggsy remembered the blade in his shoe.

“Quit playing with your food, just kill him!” Eggsy had always thought Richmond Valentine was a genius, but now he was just getting on Eggsy’s nerves. Timing his kick with Gazelle’s leap, he clicked the heels of his oxfords together and sliced across her arm, and dropped his tie to the ground in time to watch the poison spread up her body as she crumpled to the floor. He tried not to feel sick.

Watching Valentine crumple to the floor from his raised terrace was the most satisfying thing Eggsy had felt in a while - he had finally gotten justice for Harry’s death.

“It’s like you said to Harry. This ain’t that kind of movie, bruv.”

“Perfect.”

\----

Almost as soon as Eggsy had taken his glasses offline, the Swedish princess had him on his back.

“I know men like you. Snakes. Liars.” The look on her face was so intense that Eggsy was more scared for his life  _ now  _ than he had been in the last twenty hours.  _ This is what I get for trying to be James _ .

“Do you care?” Tilde’s brow furrowed, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

“If you hadn’t gotten me out of here, I would kill you myself.” She rolled off of him and retrieved the pants she had been wearing, but Eggsy didn’t dare move. “I  _ hate  _ spies.”

“So I take it you’re willing to handle clean-up then?” His voice was still hoarse from trying to bring his heart back under control. She glared at him but nodded.

“Just get me the codes, pretty English boy.” Eggsy brought his glasses back online and ignored Merlin’s wisecracks about being quick, and told her that the codes were in numerical order in either direction from her own cell, working from  _ 2625 _ .

“You think I’m pretty?” Eggsy had finally found the nerve to sit up on the bed, resting back on his elbows. Tilde glared at him again, this time from the doorway.

“I can still kill you.” She left without another word, the cell door wide open behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Eggsy gave Tilde a three minute head start - partly to catch his breath but mostly to restore his dignity - before heading out of the cell and heading to the main hangar where Merlin was waiting, the jet ready to go and fetch Roxy in the general vicinity of their rendezvous point. He ignored the princess as he passed her, and tried not to focus on what was going on around him as various world leaders were released into the halls. Eggsy was glad that they didn’t have to deal with this; one of the many benefits of working for the secret service. Climbing the steps two at a time and all but throwing himself down in a chair, Eggsy looked at Merlin.

“So, we pick up Rox and then we pop over to the States, yeah?” Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “Retrieval?” Merlin shook his head sadly.

“That’s not how this works, lad. We have other things to worry about now.” The adrenaline of the last day had begun to wear off, but Eggsy could feel himself getting angry.

“Not how this  _ works _ ? So - what, we just leave Harry dead in a foreign country?” Merlin responded by leaving him be and sitting in the cockpit. Eggsy followed him, not done with the conversation. “Is this some sort of  _ highest level of discretion _ type thing? Leaving your agents to rot? I thought you cared about him, Merlin. I thought you’d at least want to bring him home, say goodbye proper-like.” Merlin white-knuckled the controls as he geared in for take-off.

“ _ I do, dammit _ .” Merlin grit his teeth and sighed. “You aren’t the only one who wants Harry back on British soil, Eggsy. But I  _ can’t.  _ That isn’t how Kingsman operates.” Eggsy knew people who would be able to help him, but first he had to get back to London.

“Fine. If you need me, I’ll be in the back, pretending that the last twenty-four hours have been peachy keen.” Pushing out of the copilot chair, Eggsy left Merlin be.

“Eggsy, I -” Merlin cut himself off with a sigh and focused on flying the plane, knowing that it wasn’t worth it to argue with the young agent any further.

Eggsy didn’t breathe a word to Roxy when she stepped on board aside from a stiff congratulations, opting instead to turn and watch the ground disappear below the clouds again as they headed for London. It hurt to dismiss her, but if there was one thing he had learned from all this is that attachements get you nowhere.  _ Maybe Quentin and James are right for keeping it a secret from each other, for not talking about possibilities. The world we live in is too dangerous for that sort of thing.  _ Eggsy sighed heavily, shaking his head. That was the wrong way to look at things; humans were social creatures, even the ones who operated in the shadows, and it would be good for his friends to have a connection. It was just a shame the same couldn’t be said of he and Harry.

He must have dozed off at some point during the flight, his body finally collapsing from exhaustion, because when he felt Roxy’s hand on his shoulder shaking him awake they had touched down at the manor. Stretching, Eggsy brought up the rear of their little trio, praying he wouldn’t have to sit through a debrief, since officially he wasn’t an agent. But Merlin didn’t take them to an office, instead herding them towards the shuttle that would take them back to London.

“Go home. See your families, get some rest. You’ve both earned it.” Was all the Quartermaster said before turning on his heel to head into the manor proper, likely to take stock of how badly the headquarters had been hit by the rage pulses. Without saying a word to each other, Roxy and Eggsy stepped into the shuttle and sat in silence, neither speaking until they were in the elevator going up to the shop.

“Are you alright, Eggsy?” Roxy looked up at him, brow creased in worry, a small frown tugging at her mouth. He sighed.

“I suppose so. Long day, I think.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be okay, promise.” She didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t press him any further. “Sorry I snapped at you earlier. There isn’t an excuse I can think of that makes it okay. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s fine, Eggsy. Really. If our positions were reversed I would have done the same.” He nodded, and they didn’t speak again for the rest of their trip. When they were outside the storefront, Eggsy pulled Roxy back by her shoulder before she could make for her cab, pulling her into a tight hug. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be seeing her again for a long time. She smiled wearily at him, and they went their separate ways - she to her family’s residence, most likely, and he to the Black Prince. He had a bone or two to pick with his stepfather.

Eggsy spent the walk in silence, grateful for the fresh air. He could have taken a cab, but after the recent events he thought the fresh air might do him good and help him to calm down. The weather was fine, at least, so his rainmaker hung over his arm as no more than an aesthetic piece. His presence didn’t begin to turn heads until he was near the pub, but that was to be expected. Men who looked like him didn’t come through here often, and if they did, it wasn’t for a pleasant chat.

“I’ve got a job mum, and it comes with a  _ lot _ of perks - including a house. So why don’t you come and live with me there? Come on.” Technically MI6 paid enough for him to have his own place, and he  _ did _ have one, but he spent time at the flat in the estates to keep Dean away from his mum and Daisy. He didn’t need the house that came with being a Kingsman. He didn’t want it, either. His mum made to stand, but Dean’s arm stopped her. Eggsy frowned.

“The  _ only _ place she’ll be visiting you is in hospital, Muggsy. So why don’t you do just leave?” His mum nodded at him to do so, raising his hands in defeat and turning his back on the group, already planning his next move. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you get that tailor of yours to whip you up a nice chicken costume, yeah?” Eggsy could hear Dean’s goons laugh as he made it to the door, taking a breath, but not leaving.

“You know, a good friend of mine once said that  _ manners _ ,” he began, bolting the door. Behind him, the room went silent. “ _ Maketh _ .” He slid the top bolt home. “ _ Man. _ ” The latch clicked into it’s hole, and Rottie protested, knowing what was coming. “Do you know what that means?”

“Now wait just a minute, boy - I said  _ shut up, you idiot. _ What d’ya think you’re doing, Muggsy?” Eggsy smirked at his reflection in the window, faint as it was. He hooked the handle of his umbrella around the glass sitting on the end table by the door and fired it backwards, turning just in time to see it hit Dean square in the forehead.

“Now. Are we gonna stand around all day, or are we gonna fight?”

\----

Eggsy left his Kingsman-issue glasses on his nightstand, turned off, and hung the bespoke suit in his closet. He had already showered and changed into a pair of slacks and a navy blazer, and completing it with a pair of standard, run of the mill oxfords. His poison-tipped shoes sat underneath the suit, to be checked for trackers at a later date. He wouldn’t put it past Merlin to have chipped every piece of hardware issued to agents, and he didn’t want to risk being followed. Padding softly down the stairs, Eggsy paused only briefly to glance in the kitchen where his mother was cradling his baby sister in her arms and singing softly before slipping out the door and locking it behind him.  _ They’re safe now, it’s over.  _ He heard the rumble of an engine and he turned around, seeing a black Aston idling in front of his house. A man was leaning against it, the lenses of his glasses blacked out, but Eggsy knew who it was.

“I thought you could use a ride.” Sparing the man only a glance before slipping in the passenger side door, Eggsy could see that MI6 had been hit badly in the fallout. James was sporting at least five stitches along his jaw and he was favouring his shoulder again.

“Is everyone okay?”  _ Is Quentin okay?  _ That was the real question he wanted to ask, but knew that it would only make James uncomfortable.

“As far as I can tell, everyone’s fine.” His tone of voice brokered no argument, which meant that something big had happened in the interim. But James would have told him straight out if Quentin was injured  _ or worse _ , so not having the news delivered was a small blessing. They spent the drive in silence, and Eggsy tried not to stare at the smoke coming out of several windows of the MI6 headquarters. They climbed the steps and went immediately down to research, the marble tile and smooth cement giving out to rough brickwork as the elevator descended.

“Ah, good, James, you’re back.” Quentin didn’t even look up from his tablet as he addressed them. “And you’ve brought Eggsy with you, lovely. I knew I could count on you. Now, Eggsy, I need you to tell me something. It’s very important.” Eggsy, while he had been talking, was taking in the exhausted appearance of the agency’s resident quartermaster. His hair was flying off in different directions, likely as a result of running his hands through it, and his cardigan had been replaced by a button-down shirt a full size too large for him, and the collar was lying open. Even though the sleeves were cuffed they seemed to hang of of him.  _ That isn’t Quentin’s shirt. He doesn’t own anything that large. Does it belong to James? _ He glanced at the agent out of the corner of his eye, but he was too busy locating gauze to notice.

“What is this very important thing I’m supposed to be telling you?” He tried not to gape as James sat down on the edge of the table next to where Quentin had stopped his pacing, carefully removing the gauze wrapped around the man’s wrist and cleaning the wound.

“Oh, did I bleed through my stitches again?” James nodded and looked up at him, Quentin staring back with a soft look in his eye. Eggsy felt as though he was intruding, but just as quickly as it had began, it was over, James returning to his bandaging and Quentin looking up at him. “The area code for SouthGlade Mission Church. I’m trying to find the nearest airport, but in the mess there’s a mad scramble for transport.” Eggsy could feel his eyes narrow. “You  _ do _ want to bring Harry home, do you not?” Eggsy swallowed. There was one thing he could always count on: Quentin’s ability to know  _ exactly _ what he needed to hear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go...

When Eggsy touched down in Kentucky, the last thing he expected was to be redirected to the nearest hospital instead of the morgue. Harry had, miraculously, survived the gunshot to the head, and he thanked the years of combat training that it took to be able to subtly dodge a point blank shot while still making it look like you were dead. He supposed Merlin’s glasses - developed with the same bulletproof technology as the rest of the Kingsman gadgets - deserved an honourable mention, as they had likely deflected the brunt of the remaining impact.

“He’s very lucky, that one. Only survivor. Paramedics found him in the parking lot.” Eggsy followed the nurse to Harry’s room, still trying to take in the chaos around him. “We’re sorry to rush you into taking him off of our hands, but it would be best if you could take him to a hospital closer to home. We have him stable enough for movement, though you may have to help him with some things.”

“Such as?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled sadly.

“He was shot in the head, sugar. You’re probably going to have to help him with basic tasks, walking being one of them.” Eggsy swallowed.

“That’s fine.” Harry was worth it, damn this, he was worth every strand of the rest of his life. Even if it meant giving up what he had worked to achieve in both important areas of his life. “Whatever it takes.” The nurse opened the door and let him inside. Sitting up in a bed, looking as soft as he did when he had come out of that coma so many months ago, was Harry Hart. He was reading a book, it seemed, but he set it aside and looked over the rim of his glasses, smiling brightly when he saw them.

“Ah, Eggsy. There you are.” Eggsy had to force his feet to move forward, scared that if he even breathed the wrong way the whole scene would disappear and he would wake up to find this was all a dream. He stood next to Harry’s bed, brow creased, and Harry looked up at him. His eyes were soft as he reached out to take Eggsy’s hand, and Eggsy’s breath caught in his throat as he dropped heavily into the visitor’s chair.

“How - how are you feeling?” Harry chuckled.

“I’m exhausted, dear boy. But not more so than the nurses here. I’ve done my best not to be completely insufferable. Their jobs are hard enough. But,” Harry rolled his shoulder, stretching. “I’ll be glad once we can go home.”

“That’s good, Harry. That’s really good.” Eggsy could feel the tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. Harry shuffled over and took both of Eggsy’s hands in his.

“What about you, darling? When the nurses told me what had happened, how the world went insane, I was so worried. Is everything alright?” Eggsy nodded, eyes scrunched shut and throat tight. He pitched forward onto his knees, head resting on the edge of the bed next to Harry’s thigh. He gripped Harry’s fingers tightly in his own as he felt a hand card through his hair.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” Harry made a soft noise at the back of his throat and Eggsy could feel the blanket below him dampen, hot tears leaking out of his closed eyes. “I’m just so damn  _ glad _ .”

The nurse came back with Harry’s release papers and then the two of them were on their way to the airport, Eggsy calling headquarters and having Quentin hastily rearrange his flight, booking a second seat for Harry. The nurse had been right about Harry needing help - he was still leaning heavily on Eggsy’s side as they waited for a cab, but Eggsy couldn’t find himself to care. The sun was warm on his face, and his family and closest friends had survived, and Harry had one arm slung over his shoulders so he could stand properly because he was  _ here,  _ he was  _ alive _ . Their lives may be changed drastically, but Harry was here and they could finally have that conversation, sort things out and clear the air.

The airport was a crush of people and yet somehow Quentin had managed to supply them with private passage, most likely waving the power of the British government at the people in charge. The jet they boarded wasn’t dissimilar to the ones used by Kingsman, the only obvious exceptions was that it didn’t contain a secret weapons closet. Eggsy sat down in the chair across from Harry, who looked lost in thought.

“Eggsy,” Harry said, only breaking the silence once they were well away from the airport. The shirt he was wearing hung loosely on him, courtesy of their quick shopping trip before boarding and thus it not being fitted to his frame. The sleeves were cuffed, and Eggsy couldn’t help but see the man before him as the polar opposite of the one who had left. “Do you ever put much stock in dreams?”

“Why?” Harry was silent, elbows resting on his knees as he looked out the window of the plane, chewing absently on his lower lip. “Harry, what’s the matter?” Eggsy put his hand on Harry’s knee, getting the man’s attention once again.

“I had the strangest one while I was unconscious. I know that doesn’t make any sense, since the brain  _ doesn’t _ dream when we’ve been knocked out cold, but I could have sworn that I did.” Harry sat back in his chair, and Eggsy moved into the seat next to him, pulling his whole body up onto the seat. Harry wrinkled his nose at the other man’s posture for only a moment before looking up at Eggsy’s face.

“You’ve had a rough couple of days, luv.” Eggsy couldn’t stop the endearment from slipping out of his mouth, but Harry’s only reaction was to smile softly. “What was it about?”

“I was a spy. Can you believe that? A  _ spy _ .  _ Me _ .” He laughed, full enough to shake his shoulders, but Eggsy could only just hear it over the sound of his whole world crashing down around his ears. “That’s preposterous though, don’t you think? After all, we’re only tailors.” Eggsy chuckled nervously.

“Completely preposterous.” Eggsy wrapped an arm around his shins, tucking further in on himself. “Harry, tell me again how we met.” Harry looked at him like he had just asked what colour the sky was. “Please?”

“Well I should hope you remember. You  _ were _ there, after all.” Harry sighed and linked their fingers together. “But if you insist. I offered you a position as junior tailor at the shop I work at, a favour to your father. He was a good friend of mine before you were born, but it quickly became less about him and more about you and your talent.” Harry’s brow furrowed and he pressed at his temple, as though remembering was paining him. “I’m still not quite sure what you’re doing with an old man like me.” He finished quietly, unsure, and clearly still pained from his headache. The nurse had said he may have issues remembering some things, but Eggsy hadn’t thought he would forget the most important part of his life. Harry thought that his being a spy was only a dream.  _ This is bad _ . Eggsy flipped the armrest between their seats into the cushion behind them and stretched his legs onto the floor, settling himself into the wall.

“I’m here because you’re kind, and thoughtful, and you’re so, so good.” It was true, what had first attracted him to Harry was the man’s ruthlessness in his defense, but as time progressed and he learned more about him, Harry’s skills as a Kingsman faded into the background to make way for appreciation of the softer things about him. Harry looked down at his lap and folded his fingers together.

“You really believe that?” Harry’s eyes flicked up to meet his, and Eggsy smiled.

“Of course. Now why don’t you get some rest, yeah?” He patted a hand on his thigh, implying that Harry use it as a pillow and stretch out across the seats as best he could. He had just gotten the man back from the dead, for crying out loud, and he didn’t want to put any more distance between them than he had to. Harry shook his head.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I’ve slept so much in the last two days that I don’t think I c-” Eggsy raised and eyebrow and Harry cut himself off, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, alright. I suppose a quick nap couldn’t hurt.” With a fair amount of shuffling, Harry managed to situate himself in a comfortable position on the leather seats, his head pillowed on Eggsy’s lap. It didn’t take more than a moment or so for him to sigh contentedly and let sleep take over.

Eggsy let Harry sleep for the remainder of the flight, glad that at least one of them would be rested when they reached London. He didn’t want to close his eyes, for fear of memories from the bunker surfacing. Eggsy hadn’t slept since Harry had left for Kentucky, and the only way he would sleep was once Harry was well and truly taken care of. The plane touched down gently and Eggsy shook Harry awake, who blinked owlishly for a moment before running a hand across the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I slept for the whole flight, didn’t I?” He said as they made their quick trip through security, seeing as neither of them had any luggage. “Why did you let me sleep?” Eggsy held open the car door and Harry sat inside, waiting patiently for the younger man to start it.

“You needed the rest. I thought you had died.” He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “I thought I had lost you.” Harry sighed and turned Eggsy’s face with the tips of his fingers, leaning over the console to kiss him softly. Their last kiss had been nothing like this one; it had been rough, bruising almost, a precursor to what was next. Harry kissed him now like he had done it a thousand times, and as if he had the time to do it a thousand more. It hurt to think that Harry didn’t remember his old life, but at least he had remembered  _ them _ , whatever they had been. Eggsy could feel his arms shaking, and he tried not to let the car jerk as he pulled out of the lot.

“Where are we going?”

“To see some friends of mine. They’ll help you get back on track.”

\----

Harry looked far too at home among the mess that was Quentin’s lab, passing him files or tinkering on the various prototypes scattered about the room. Eggsy had thought that bringing him down here would trigger a memory, as disastrous as it would be for him, for their relationship, and Quentin was silently running brain scans of the older man while they worked. Watching Harry dig around under the hood of the short cab DB5 parked for decoration in the lab, Eggsy joined Quentin at his desk.

“I haven’t found anything, if that’s what you’re about to ask me. His brain function is normal, and it doesn’t fluctuate outside of the normal range whenever he’s tried to remember something.” He muttered under his breath, eyes flicking between the multiple tabs he had open. “But he seems to be getting on well with James, with is ironic.” Eggsy looked over at the two men on the other side of the room, laughing about something he couldn’t discern. Noticing his staring, Harry looked up from the engine and grinned, wiping the grease off of his hands and making his way over. James bid his farewell, and Quentin sat watching the elevator long after it had disappeared.

“May I tell you something?” Harry said, and Quentin jumped so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. He hadn’t been expecting Harry to speak, but fortunately they were in a position that it didn’t appear that Quentin had anything to hide from the older man, who had leaned forward slightly in his concern. “You can disregard it as the follies of an old man, if you like.” Quentin righted himself and nodded for Harry to continue. “I’ve lived a rather long life, and if I have one bit of advice, it’s that you shouldn’t waste your time worrying about  _ what ifs _ . Especially when you’ve been handed a gift.” Harry looked pointedly at him before taking Eggsy’s hand and leading him out of the lab. Eggsy twisted to catch one last look at his friend, who was still sitting in his chair, looking like he had just been hit with a hundred volts of electricity.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter six - quick head's up, the next one will be the last, though I'll be sad to see it go.

It had been almost a month since Harry’s return to England, and his memory wasn’t any better. On the one hand, his attempt to be helpful had given James and Quentin a step in the right direction - any hope of release from the constant tension between them, no matter how slim, was still a hope Eggsy clung to tightly and with both hands. The man had also become rather close with James as well, something that Eggsy would have worried about were he not already so worried about the  _ gaping holes in Harry’s memory _ . Missing so many pieces of his life was beginning to remind Eggsy of looking at several well-stacked slices of swiss cheese. On the other hand, there was the now permanent living arrangements that he and Harry had created. With his dual salary he put his mum up in a flat of her own, all expenses paid; as much as he loved her dearly, and loved his little sister to pieces, it was his most challenging mission yet to dodge the questions from her as to how they had met, who he was to Eggsy, and, most importantly, why his late father’s superior officer had taken up residence in Eggsy’s flat. It was almost worse avoiding the soft-spoken ones from Harry, asking him carefully in the dark why Michelle Unwin hated him so much, his voice hovering on the edge of breaking.

On another hand  _ entirely _ (really, Eggsy had run out of body parts to count on and had begun using those of the people around him, it was getting ridiculous), there was his double life. This whole mess had started out so simply - infiltrate the ghost organization, figure out their loyalty, gain their trust, and  _ don’t die _ . For the last six months it had worked almost flawlessly, except for that time he had nearly drowned, or the time he had almost become a smear on the lawn of the Kingsman manor, or that other time he had come  _ this close _ to being run over by a train. Oh, and he couldn’t forget nearly getting plugged full of bullets or being cut into tiny pieces by a woman who had swords instead of legs. Just a day in his life. Trying to keep his cover as a tailor to the man who actually believed they were both tailors was difficult, especially while trying to keep said man as far away from guns as possible. As much as Eggsy wanted Harry to remember his old life, wanted him to remember the things he had done and the people he had saved and the places he had visited, Harry had been to the labs in MI6. If Harry remembered anything at all about his career as Galahad, then his next step would be putting a bullet into Eggsy, and then after that pouring himself a drink.

But now was not the time for thinking. He was on a mission for Merlin, and he had to stay focused. He was posing as private security at a gala - fortunately he wasn’t supposed to be noticed which meant that he could even get himself a drink if he wanted, provided it didn’t inhibit him too much - where the main targets were dignitaries from around the globe. Merlin had intel that put a fair few of them on the suspect list for criminal activity, and he wanted Eggsy to gather as much information as he could. He also had a second directive, which was to be on the lookout for someone who was actually MI6 (he had had to suppress his laughter during the briefing) and to avoid detection from them. Eggsy knew that it would be James. Quentin never could resist irony, and if he caught wind of Eggsy’s being there then the agent would be his first choice, if he wasn’t already.

Swiveling on his barstool and taking a sip of his martini, Eggsy surveyed the room. It was filled with run of the mill upper class ilk, the men in well-cut suits and the ladies in fine gowns that were far too impractical to be worn anywhere but at an event like this. He had already done four passes of the room in the last three hours, and Eggsy sincerely hoped there was enough evidence on his glasses from his numerous conversations to incriminate a few of the people Merlin had listed. He was tired and he wanted to go home and curl up in bed. Or perhaps have a nice long soak in the tub. Either one would be preferable, and if he had the time he would do both. Out of the corner of his eye a familiar profile seated himself on the stool next to Eggsy, a woman nearly half his age hanging off the arm of his white suit jacket. Eggsy managed to hide his distaste, and for all he knew that he was only acting, seeing his fellow agent with a woman rubbed him the wrong way. He had hoped he was reading their progression the right way, but it appeared that James was enjoying himself _rather_ _thoroughly_.

“Shaken, not stirred,” Eggsy could hear Merlin mumble on the other end about people who didn’t care about bruising their liquor, and the woman next to Bond giggled. “And one for this lovely lady as well.” Eggsy huffed into his drink, but James made a valiant display of not noticing him at all. He opened his mouth to make some witty quip, casual conversation to save the poor bird from his friend’s rampant womanizing, when a gunshot rang through the room and somebody screamed. Thankfully, his cover allowed him to reach for his gun without being conspicuous, and both he and James darted from their stools and headed into the fray. People were beginning to scatter, running in all directions in fear, and when the floor had finally cleared enough for him to see there was a man lying in a pool of his own blood. Pulling up short, Eggsy could see that it was the delegate from Saint Petersburg. He swore colourfully.

“I will be in  _ so _ much trouble for that.” It was more for effect, really, considering Merlin didn’t care about the Russian one way or another. The most important man on their list had shifted to their shooter. In eiry synchronization, he and James looked up to the catwalk where a man was disappearing through the exit.

“Shit.” Eggsy nodded and he took off towards the nearest staircase, James hot on his heels.

He supposed it might seem curious to Merlin, how well the two of them worked together despite never having to supposed to have met, but Eggsy couldn’t bring himself to care about that. Taking the stairs two at a time and then shouldering through the service door for the catwalk stairwell, Eggsy looked up and saw their man staring down at them. His glasses ran facial recognition, and he could see lines of green text scroll up through his lenses as Merlin gave him commentary he didn’t need at the moment. Hoping his parkour skills weren’t as rusty as he thought they were, Eggsy bypassed the steps and kicked off of the concrete banister. He could hear James muttering about show-offs behind him but his feet hit the stairs all the same.

They were only two floors away instead of six, gaining ground as their shooter ran out of space to run, when he turned around and pulled out a handgun. Eggsy stalled as the gun was leveled at him, stepping backwards off of the concrete and down to the stairs behind him, trying to make himself look non-threatening. A still moment passed and then the gun lowered, firing three shots downward. Eggsy heard a pained grunt below him.  _ James, shit _ . Merlin crackled over his comm link as the man above him sent him one last look before disappearing out of the fire escape.

_ “I’ve got enough information to track him down, Eggsy. I’ll get Roxy on it. You’ve got a man down, now go.” _ Doing the one thing he had been told never to do while on an active mission, Eggsy turned off his glasses and ran down the stairs to where James had collapsed, clutching his side. He pressed one hand to the man’s ribs, his fingers coming away wet as James’ white suit was stained crimson. Applying pressure and hauling him up, Eggsy tugged his fellow agent’s free arm around his shoulders to help bear the load.

“Can you walk?” James tried to take a step and swore. “How many times did you get hit?” He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere else, but Eggsy wanted to be sure.

“Just the once. I’ll be fine. I’ve lived through worse.”

Carefully, Eggsy led them back down the stairs and out of the building to the parking lot. Pushing him into the back seat of James’ Aston -  _ really, how predictable could one person be? They were spies, this was ridiculous _ \- Eggsy started the car and peeled out of the lot, heading back to MI6 headquarters. He would be damned if he went back to the shop front for a debrief now. In the back, still clutching his side, James was beginning to slip into delirium.

“That last martini was what did me in.” James groaned. Untrue or not, Eggsy was just glad his friend was talking. The longer he stayed awake the better chance they had of putting him back together.

“How many did you have? I only saw the one.” Eggsy drifted in and out of traffic, eyes flicking between the road and the man stretched out in the backseat.

“One, two… Five, maybe? I lost count.” Eggsy sighed, and thanked the lord they were close to headquarters. “Do you think he knows?” Eggsy met his gaze in the rear view mirror. “Quentin. That I -” The music playing quietly through the stereo buzzed into static as Quentin’s voice came over the airwave. He sounded worried.

_ “James, what happened? You went offline.” _

“M’fine, lad,” he replied, grunting as he adjusted his position. “You can kill me later for bleeding on the upholstery.”

_ “You got shot?” _

“Of course he did. It wasn’t his fault.”

_ “Oh, Eggsy, thank goodness. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re bringing his ass back here so that I can yell at him. I wouldn’t be able to do that if he crashed the car.”  _ Quentin was silent for a moment.  _ “You are bringing him back to headquarters, right? Because Harry wants to see you. We’ve had a… a bit of a situation.”  _ Eggsy stepped on the gas and they sped through a yellow light, earning them more than one or two honks from angry drivers. They were nearly there now, he could see the lights from the building.

“What sort of situation, Quentin? What’s happened?” He wheeled the car into the entrance to the parking garage, only waiting for his friend’s reply before tugging James out of the car.

_ “He was in the lab with me, watching the footage from James’ mission. I had told him to go, I wasn’t sure if you had wanted him to see it or not.” _ Eggsy grit his teeth at the deflection.

“What. Happened.” His eyes flicked to James, who was trying to sit up, still - thankfully - clutching his side.

_ “He reacted strongly to the gunshots. And by strongly I mean I had to clean up china from where he flung his tea cup at the wall. His brain function was off the charts for a handful of seconds, but he seems fine now. He still won’t leave the lab, and he’s been asking after you.” _ Eggsy sighed, the worst case scenarios running through his head. Pulling James out of the car and moving him as quickly as possible to the elevator, he tried not to jerk in surprise when the doors rattled open and Quentin and Harry stepped out. The younger man ran the remaining distance between them.

“Why are you  _ always _ doing this, you melodramatic, theatrical, pri-” James, delirious as he was, tilted into Quentin’s arms the moment he was close enough to do it more or less safely, and pressed their mouths together. It couldn’t really be called a kiss, by any real sense of the word, and to be fair James had only managed to catch the corner of the other man’s mouth. James pulled away as best he could, grinning like a fool, and then lost enough of his balance to have to rely solely on Quentin for support. “Well, in that case, I suppose a quick trip to medical is in order. I won’t kill you. Yet.” Eggsy shook his head fondly as the two of them stumbled towards the elevator before turning to Harry, stepping into the other man’s space to run a hand down the side of his arm.

“So, Quentin said you were asking after me?” Harry nodded, but the look in his eyes was familiar. Eggsy couldn’t quite place it, but it was concerning. Something was wrong.

“I was. I saw the video footage. What were you doing at that gala, darling? Are you alright?” Eggsy leaned in to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck, tucking his head under the other man’s chin. He could feel Harry’s hands press into his back, and he sighed.

“I promise I’ll tell you later, yeah? I will. But let’s go  _ home _ .”

“Of course.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go! The final installment - and before I get to it, I would like to thank every one of you who's reading this and for sticking with me to this point. It certainly has been a bit bonkers, but without further adieu...

Whatever had been bothering Harry in the car park was no longer an issue, or if it was it didn’t stop the older man from pinning Eggsy against his front door the moment it closed behind them. Eggsy didn’t think he would ever get tired of the way Harry kissed, desperate and hungry, but just like before he could tell that something was different. Harry nipped down his neck gently, laced with kisses, making sure every inch of his exposed throat was taken care of.

“Harry, I -” Eggsy bit off his own words as Harry’s teeth grazed across his adam’s apple, and he took a moment to collect himself as Harry undid the top two buttons of his shirt so he could access Eggsy’s collarbone. “I thought you wanted to talk.” One of Harry’s hands slid up his thigh, hitching it around his waist and bringing Eggsy up onto his toes.  _ Why did Harry have to be so damn tall? _

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” Harry said, nosing behind Eggsy’s ear and placing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind it. “I’m doing so.  _ Let  _ me.” Harry’s voice was low, possessive, and Eggsy couldn’t help but rock his hips forward. He could feel Harry smile against his skin.

“So I take it you’re just happy to see me, and that  _ isn’t _ a gun in your pocket, then?” Harry pulled away, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He gave Eggsy a firm, claiming kiss before almost releasing him entirely, tugging him forward by the tips of his fingers before Eggsy was completely steady on the ground.

“Only if you’d like it to be.”  _ Damn, what did I do to deserve this?  _ Eggsy spared a thought for what might have happened if Harry hadn’t lost his memory in Kentucky, or even if he had never gone to Kentucky in the first place. He had learned quickly that for all Harry was ‘a place for everything, and everything in it’s place,’ buttoned up neatly while in public, when it came to his private affairs he was nothing short of an animal. If  _ this _ Harry was adventurous, then Eggsy was almost certain that the brief taste he had gotten during his trials was only the tip of the iceberg. Following Harry up the stairs to the master suite - and getting stopped on said stairs several times so that Harry could kiss him again - Harry’s odd looks slipped further and further from Eggsy’s mind.

Harry walked him backwards, kissing him all the while, and followed Eggsy down when his knees bounced off of the mattress. Looking up at Harry, Eggsy still wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten into this position, how he had gotten so  _ lucky _ . Growing up, he had had no illusions about being able to marry for love; the couples he knew, while more often than not were happy, had gotten married because there was a baby on the way. It was easier for him, in one sense, not minding either way who he ended up with, but to have Harry looking down at him like he was the most important thing in the whole world? That was something else. Eggsy didn’t know when this feeling of his had become what it was, but he knew that even if Harry didn’t remember the truth about their relationship, about how they had met, he would tell him. Harry deserved to know. And if he thought less of Eggsy for it, then at least he couldn’t say he had lied.

Eggsy crawled backwards up the bed until his head was on the pillows, Harry following him every bit of the way. Somewhere along the way up the stairs, Harry’s tie had been undone (Eggsy knew that it was his fault, just like it was his fault that Harry’s hair looked a complete mess) and Harry tugged it off, looking at Eggsy questioningly. In response, Eggsy raised his arms above his head and smirked.

“Well? Are you gonna wrap me up like a present or not?” Harry nipped at his lip and swatted his thigh, but Eggsy could feel the smile against his mouth, so he knew the other man wasn’t as exasperated as he came across. When Harry was finished, Eggsy looked up at the neat bow Harry had tied around his wrists with his tie, looping around a spike in the headboard. Eggsy tugged at it; it was firmer than he expected it to be, but he didn’t have a lot of time to question it before the fabric of his trousers went down to his knees. “You wanna help me get these off the rest of the way, or am I stuck like this?” Harry didn’t answer, but simply buckled Eggsy’s belt back up again, preventing him from being able to get his trousers down past his feet. “Okay, I knew you was weird, Harry, but this is a whole other level of crazy.”

When Harry looked back up at him, the same look from the car park was on his face again.  _ Some spy I am, letting him get the jump on me like that. Dammit, Unwin, you got distracted by a pretty face. _ Harry smiled coldly and pulled a gun out of his shoulder holster, and Eggsy’s mouth went dry. He emptied the cylinder of it’s contents, checking to make sure everything was in order before dropping the bullets onto the floor and a cascade, closing his fingers in time to catch only one. Harry held it up in the dim light, studying the metal casing. From his place on the bed, Eggsy squirmed futilely. He  _ abhorred _ Russian Roulette.

“Have some  _ manners _ , Eggsy,” Harry tutted. “They’re important. We’re going to play a little game, my darling,” he said softly as he popped the bullet into a slot and spun the cylinder until it was little more than a blur, not looking at it. “I’m going to ask you some questions. If I suspect you of lying to me, I’m going to pull the trigger. I assume you know how the rest of the game works?” Eggsy nodded. Was it twisted that some part of him was actually enjoying this? Probably. He swallowed thickly as the cylinder stopped spinning, and Harry locked it back into place without seeing where the bullet had landed. “For both of our sakes, I would like you to limit your answers to  _ single words _ . It’s much harder to lie that way.” In one last attempt, Eggsy tugged on his bonds again. “Please tell me the truth, darling. I really would  _ hate  _ to kill you.”

“So I take it you remembered at least  _ something _ , then? Which is good, because I know how much your memories meant to you.” Harry sent a dry chuckle his way, but Eggsy could tell he was trying not to smile.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I watched that friend of yours get shot, and something clicked. Perhaps it was Quentin’s screaming that triggered it, but I can’t be sure.”  _ So there was something between them, at least a little bit of good is going to come from all of this. _ “Why don’t we start there, actually? And remember, you can think about your answers, just don’t take too long. Why were you at the gala, Eggsy?” His handlers would kill him for giving up information like this, even under pain of death, and not once in his life had Eggsy squealed. But dammit, this was Harry, and if there was ever a time to do it, it was now.

“Mission.” Harry cocked his head sideways.

“For who?”

“Kingsman.”

“Why?”

“Reconnaissance.” Harry looked almost thoughtful for a moment before he asked his next question.

“What was it for?” Eggsy cast around for the right word; he was, after all, only allowed one. Harry nodded at him in understanding, though didn’t comment on his obvious distress.

“Politics.” Harry nodded again.

“That’s all fairly standard enough, and I can’t fault you for being in the same place as MI6. It’s happened more than once to me. But what I  _ can _ fault you for is being on a first-name basis with them. How long were you working for them, darling?” Harry’s voice was still soft, resigned, like this interrogation was the last thing he wanted to be doing. Eggsy supposed it very well could be. He had thought, before the mess with the gala, that Harry had been on the verge of telling him that he loved him, but now Eggsy wasn’t sure.

“Seven.” Harry frowned.

“Time frame?”

“Months.” A little bit of tension had released from his shoulders, as if the knowledge that Eggsy hadn’t been employed with the government long was a consolation in this debacle. “So you were still fairly green then. Why were you investigating us?”

“Radar.” Harry cursed; he must have known that sooner or later they would run into trouble. With peacocks like he and James at the table, it was only a matter of time before people with access to red tape came poking around. Harry took three steps across the room before turning around again, rubbing at his temples in frustration.

“Who, exactly, were you in contact with while undergoing your trials?”

“Quentin.” Eggsy said the name through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to give up his friend, but unless he was honest the man was as good as dead anyway.

“And he’s the only one you passed information to?”

“Yes.” Harry bit the inside of his cheek, and Eggsy tried to get some feeling back into his fingertips. The knot on the tie wasn’t tight enough to cut off circulation, but the position  _ was _ awkward to hold for so long. Thankfully, Harry didn’t seem to concerned with the movement of his hands, but Eggsy wasn’t about to test if he could untie himself before Harry took a risk with the gun.

“How did you send it to him?”

“Key.” He hoped that Harry knew he was referring to a flash drive, but he didn’t know if ‘usb’ was going to get him shot or not.

“What all was on that drive?”

“Little.”

“You didn’t have access to much about us because you were busy with your trials, correct?”

“Yes.” A small smile crept onto Harry’s face.

“Sent during our twenty-four hours together, I take it, you cheeky brat.” With Harry looking down at him from the end of the bed, Eggsy could feel heat creep down his chest. “No doubt your files were encrypted.”

“Password.”

“And what did that password do?”

“Scrub.” A frown creased Harry’s features again, and from all his training Eggsy could tell that this was about to head in a much different direction.

“On the laptop or the drive?”

“Drive.” Harry’s frown deepened.

“Why?” Eggsy could feel his throat close. This  _ wasn’t _ how he had wanted the truth to come out. He had wanted it to be organic, preferably after a nice walk outside under the stars or before bed or something equally romantic and soppy, but he supposed that having to say it with a gun to his head was all too fitting for their relationship.

“Loyalty.”

“To what, darling?” Harry’s voice had gone soft again, anticipating the answers that were coming.

“Heart.” Harry cocked his head to the side, and his finger slipped off of the trigger a fraction.

“You’re in love? Well, she must be rather special, if you were willing to risk destroying the information you had gathered for her.” Harry sounded almost heartbroken, as though he didn’t believe that Eggsy loved him, was  _ in love _ with him.

“He.”

“What?” Eggsy repeated himself. “Well, it makes no difference, because I would like a name.” Eggsy swallowed thickly and ran his tongue across the back of his teeth. He didn’t have a way out, not this time. He wasn’t going to lie to this man, not any more, not for the rest of his life, were he so allowed. “A name, Eggsy. I promise, he won’t be hurt if you tell me.”

“Henry.” So he had done a little bit of digging, sue him. Who outright named their child Harry, especially someone of the age of the man standing at the edge of the bed? Harry chuckled.

“Do you know how many Henrys there are in London  _ alone _ , darling? You’ll have to be a bit more specific, if you please.” Eggsy scrunched up his face and swallowed again. When he opened his eyes, Harry was still standing at the end ot the bed, patiently expectant.

“ _ You _ .”

It was worth it, watching the man’s reaction. The gun he held dangled loosely from his fingers as he looked back in shock before it clattered to the floor, likely making a chip in the hardwood. Harry didn’t seem to care. He was too busy taking in the man before him, who was panting gently in relief at not being shot, muscles still straining above his head. Harry took a handful of hesitant steps forward the bed, sitting down next to Eggsy’s hip. He brushed a lock of hair away from Eggsy’s forehead and then trailed his fingers down the man’s jaw so that they were looking at each other again. Eggsy heard a high, keening sound, and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from  _ him _ .

“Would you like me to untie you, my darling?” Harry’s voice curled around the words, and Eggsy’s hips rolled up against his own volition at the possessiveness of them. Harry’s hand traced from his jaw down his throat and finally came to a stop to toy with the next button on Eggsy’s shirt.

“No.” Harry smiled.

\------

Harry walked down the halls of the Kingsman manor, generally ignoring the inquiring and, for the most part, rather shocked looks he was receiving from the staff. Adjusting his cufflink needlessly, Harry opened the doors of the formal meeting room. Out of all the agents present in the room, both physical and not, there was one man who didn’t look particularly surprised to see him.

“Finally. It took you long enough. We’ve saved you a seat.” Harry nodded at Merlin and sent him a look that promised he would explain things to him later - or, at least, some of it - but paused when he noticed that it wasn’t Galahad’s chair the quartermaster was gesturing to, but rather the large chair at the head of the table. He raised his eyebrow in silent question. “As our most senior agent, it is your right.”

“You should have taken it in my absence,” Harry muttered to his friend as he sat down, offering no further comment.

“You know very well that I want nothing to do with this.” Merlin replied as he tapped a few keys on his tablet, and on the screen the reason for their collection played on the projection. Had Eggsy not sent him a text a few short hours ago, a single photo of him holding his younger sister under a large sign reading off the most  _ unpronounceable _ train station most likely known to man with the caption  _ ‘wish u were here ;) xx’ _ , Harry would have worried about the decanter in front of him. As it stood, he watched the footage from Eggsy’s last mission with passive silence, no different from everyone else. They had come to an agreement, the two of them. Harry - now with memories intact - would return to Kingsman, and Eggsy would somehow manage to fake his own death, and then use it as an excuse to go on an extended holiday with his family and thus retiring him from both Kingsman and MI6. He didn’t have any warning of  _ how _ the man would do it, only that Eggsy would. The time apart would be hard on both of them, but it was ultimately necessary in order for Eggsy’s trail to cool before he returned home more permanently. The agents around the table looked to him as the video ended, and Harry raised his glass.

“To Galahad.” The people around him chorused the same, and then Merlin called the meeting. The quartermaster waved him off towards Arthur’s official office at the manor, the two of them walking in what could be considered an awkward silence by all counts. It wouldn’t be an entirely unfair assumption to make, considering one’s death and subsequent miraculous return could make anything rather awkward. Harry sat down in the large winged leather chair that sat behind Arthur’s - his, now - desk, and spun to face the window.

“We’ll discuss this,” Merlin waved a hand dismissively at the entirety of Harry’s form, “later. In an effort to promote communication, a rare hand has been extended from MI6 for a joint mission. They need our help. I’ve taken the liberty of inviting two - and  _ only _ two - of their agents out here, under extreme discretion, naturally. Would you like me to send them in?” Harry had a gut feeling of who those two agents would be, but waved a hand to Merlin. “Dramatic sod. Remind me again why we’re friends?” But Merlin did as he was told, and Harry could hear footsteps shortly after the buzzer outside sounded.

“Because nobody else will put up with your shit.” Merlin glared at him. “And nobody else can handle mine.”

“That’s better.” Merlin waved a hand in the direction of the two guest chairs which now sat occupied. “Arthur, this is the quartermaster from MI6, and their best agent. Gentlemen,” Harry turned his chair around, and was reminded, rather ironically, of every single colourful megalomaniac from the vintage spy movies he had loved so much as a child. “This is Arthur.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Harry said, cool as you please, as though he had never met either man before in his life. For their parts, both James and Quentin made a valiant job of not choking on their tongues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not the ending some of you were anticipating, but there you have it. Feel free to talk to me (I'm nerdyydragon on tumblr well) if you'd like!


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